


Miles and Miles Deep

by Bogpaddle



Category: South Park
Genre: Curses, Gen, M/M, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Nixie/Nix (mythology), Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:15:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bogpaddle/pseuds/Bogpaddle
Summary: Stan and Kyle run a detective agency specializing in cases involving the supernatural. One day, Stan finds himself cursed by one of their targets. It's up to him, Kyle and a few other friends to reverse it before time runs out. Oh, and somehow catch a dangerous criminal on the way.All art is by me.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

It was a muggy day in Baltimore during the middle of March, when the leaves were just beginning to peek through their branches. Remaining snow clung stubbornly to the sides of the street, brown with the dirt from passing cars. Stan shifted in his desk chair as he sat in front of his research area in his corner of the tiny office — which doubled as a bookstore — that he shared. 

The walls were made of old wood and the place smelled dusty. Looking out the window granted him a view of little droplets on a lilac tree outside, and a small section of the street that ran behind the building.

Tapping his fingers softly against the wooden surface of his desk, he turned and looked at the photo in front of him again.

It was hastily snapped, a bit blurry, but the subject of the photo was clear to him — a man known only as _Chaos_ , a powerful wizard. He was wanted for various crimes, ranging from curses to full blown murder, all done with an unknown strain of magic. Stan had been studying this man for months alongside his partner, Kyle Broflovski. 

He and Kyle ran a small detective agency in this tiny rented building. It had no official name, mostly because they were both absolutely horrible at coming up with them. They specialized in cases that had to do with the supernatural. Usually, they got their tips through the grapevine or clients that knew them, since magic itself was still something that was kept under wraps, and was — as a rule — not to be done around the general public. 

Kyle was adept in magic himself, specializing in healing and fire. How those mixed together, Stan wasn’t quite clear on. He and Kyle had been friends for years prior, and even in childhood he showed an astuteness in magic that Stan was only a little bit jealous of. Only a little. Unlike him, Stan was completely unable to use it aside from a few weak detection spells, which were only really useful for their cases.

He took a deep breath and puffed it out. This was ridiculous. He finally got a lead on the guy and he disappeared _again_. Rubbing the back of his neck where hair meets skin, he got up and walked toward the door of the office room. As he left the building, he texted Kyle where to meet up at, since his friend had to leave early to do some errands.

The gloom of impending rain filtered down from the sky, a blanket of ominous dark gray clouds floating above as he walked down the street toward his destination, a local pub. Opening the door to a jingle of bells, he walked in and sat down at his usual spot and took out his tablet, listening to the tune of some rock band that played over the radio of the building.

Another few minutes later and the door jingled again, and Stan saw the familiar coppery mop of his best friend, wearing a dark green cloth coat that complimented his hair. Stan smiled, taking in the crooked way Kyle held his mouth just before he said something. His friend greeted the bartender in the corner of the bar, who was cleaning out a cup. 

He watched his friend walk confidently to the seat where Stan was, and Stan tried not to stare too much at the way his hair caught in the light above the table, turning it a vibrant, almost gold.

"Did you find anything?" Kyle asked.

Stan shook his head and closed the cover to his tablet and set it down on the table, looking at Kyle. "Sort of— mostly stuff that we already know. I just need to find where this guy went after his last sighting." He sighed. 

"I've done plenty of research about him though, I think we can definitely nab this guy." 

Kyle nodded and looked down, thrumming his fingers against the wood. "I could try using magic to find him, you know. At least— I mean. It wouldn't take too long to find him." 

Stan snorted, leaning back. "You could, but without a clear idea of where he could be, you wouldn't be able to pick him up. 'Sides, he will definitely be using some sort of cloaking spell." 

Kyle sighed frustratedly and the conversation dropped on its own. One of the wait staff came over and asked what they'd have to eat and drink. They both settled for appetizers that they split with each other, and a couple of beers. Stan lazily drank from his cup, looking idly at Kyle's hand on his own glass. 

He'd always liked his friend's hands, he thought absently. Long and pale fingers with a few freckles speckled around them, slightly calloused from many hours on the piano. They were perfect for it, he thought.

Being around his best friend messed with his head more than he would like to admit. He forced his mind to focus on the case they'd picked up once more.

Chaos couldn't be far. Even though he had appeared in several different places and states before, it was not uncommon for him to hang around in a select few cities. He could even be in the very city that Stan and Kyle were stationed in.

Stan looked outside of the nearby window as the rain started to fall in little droplets against it, obstructing his view only slightly, and watched the cars as they came and left the downtown area. Across from him, Kyle ran his finger around the lip of his half empty glass, head in the other hand as he thought. 

Stan shifted his attention back to idly watching the crowds of people as they passed by on the street.

At once and with a start, Stan saw something — or some _one —_ looking at him, but only for a second, after which the feeling passed. Kyle noticed and frowned, turning his head and followed Stan’s gaze to the street, trying to see what he’d seen. There was nothing.

“Dude, are you okay? What happened?” Kyle asked, concerned.

“It was uh. I don’t know, I thought I saw someone looking at me,” Stan stumbled out, feeling a little unnerved. It must have been his imagination; although, in their line of work, it never really was just something he imagined.

The two sat there together at the bar making idle chat until around 8:30, Stan looked at his phone screen for the time and decided that he needed to get home to finish writing up a report for another case they had recently finished. 

They left the pub and walked together in a comfortable silence as the night continued its light drizzle. Stan forgot his umbrella and Kyle discreetly used his fire magic to keep him at least a little dry during their stroll. Stan was only slightly jealous.

They exchanged a hug before parting ways in opposite directions, and Stan tried to hide the way his face flushed at the contact with his best friend. The scent of _Kyle_ around him was messing with his head again.

_Someday_ , he thought dimly, and distantly he wished he could kiss him goodbye instead.

Stan walked home quickly as the rain started to pick up, tiny puddles that gathered around his feet splashing as he trudged through them. He tried not to get any more wet than he already was, but by the time he could finally see his apartment complex, he was already almost completely soaked through. Sighing and silently cursing the sky, he walked into his apartment and peeled off his drenched clothes before sitting down and writing his report. When he was done with that task, he spent the rest of his time looking up more things about their recent target. 

At around 11:30, he laid in bed to get some sleep, but found himself unable to. Sighing, he sat up and opened his laptop to at least do _something_ until he felt tired. As the laptop booted up, he idly looked around the room when he noticed movement. In the window, he swore he saw a figure in the bush outside through the curtains.

Alarmed, he stood up quietly from his position on the bed and made his way over to the window as quiet as possible. Carefully, he pulled back the curtain and peered outside, ready to grab anything to use as a weapon. Only when he looked at the bushes, nothing was there. 

Huh. He could have sworn…

“Hello, Marsh.” a smug voice said.

Stan jumped and spun around, only to be met with a figure’s arm coming down toward him. Unprepared as he was, he still managed to dodge the blow that would have definitely knocked him out. Now completely on edge, he turned to face his attacker and froze on the spot. Chaos, the man who had been the subject of his research for months and consistently slipped his grasp, was now standing before him ominously.

In person, Chaos was lithe and tall, almost catlike in his stance. Pale blue eyes shown coldly underneath the neatly kept blond hair, which was pulled down in a lazy ponytail. A scar was visible across his left eye, probably rendering it blind. It wasn’t the most intimidating sight to someone that didn’t know the history behind this person, but Stan was on high alert for any potential tricks. Even if he was woefully unarmed and unprepared. 

“How did you get in here? And how did you know my name?” Stan forced out in a stammer.

Chaos only smirked darkly, and moved to sit down on the edge of Stan’s bed, crossing his legs. Stan backed up further against the nearest wall. 

“A little birdie told me that you and your partner have been tracking me. I came to put an end to that, or at least slow you down.” 

A shiver ran up Stan’s spine. He wasn’t going to kill him, was he?

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" The question almost forced its way out of him.

Chaos just stood and walked closer to Stan, who was finding it difficult to move, as if he was frozen in place. The closer Chaos got, the more Stan struggled to get out of the spell’s grip, gritting his teeth as he became more and more frustrated. The man stopped just in front of him and smiled again. 

“You’re a very handsome man, Stanley. I almost feel bad doing this.” 

Then Stan was hit over the head with something, and the world spun as he hit the ground hard. Just as his vision was giving out, he noticed the landscape around him change, and gave into unconsciousness.

When Stan awoke it was dead silent, save for the sound of rain coming from somewhere nearby. He could hardly be said to be cognizant at all as he dimly took in his surroundings bit by bit, blinking the haze out of his eyes. For a moment, he was confused and thought he had left the window in his room open. 

“Oh, you’re waking up.” A cold voice from somewhere above him reached his ears, and he groaned a little. Then felt a swift kick to the stomach.

Immediately he coughed and tried to stifle down rising vomit as he rose to sit up; he was never that strong in the gut department. When he looked up at his attacker, his memory came rushing back and he tried to shuffle backward while holding his hand around his waist, quickly noting that he was backing up against a cold and hard cave wall. Chaos. His room. But how did they get here?

“Teleportation spell. Very useful in a pinch.” 

Stan glanced up in shock. 

Chaos smirked back. “Don’t be so surprised, it was written all over your face.”

Stan took a moment to look around the cave as Chaos turned away from him and went back to some kind of table at the far right. It wasn’t that large of a cave, dimly lit from some lanterns hanging off the walls and a lamp he wasn’t sure how was getting electricity. From what he could see, it seemed like it was ancient; carved out long ago by forces of nature. Some lichen patches hung down loosely from the entrance, dripping water into soft puddles into the divots in the dirt floor. Mushrooms and moss snaked their way inside along the walls and in patches on the ground.

His thoughts were interrupted by Chaos suddenly turning around, forcing Stan to swivel his head in his direction. “I find you bounty hunters a real pain in the ass. Always sniffing around and trying to find the next target,” Chaos drawled, messing with a transparent flask.

“Anyway, I have heard a lot about you and your partner, Stanley. Instead of just killing you like the others that get in my way, I want to play a bit of a game. Just to, ah, make things interesting.” He chuckled, turning the flask over in his hands as he spoke.

Stan eyed it warily, unsure of what was in it. It was some strange blue powder, faintly glowing. Almost like glitter? The sensation of being unable to move struck him again, and Chaos stepped closer, fastening a mask to his face. The only thing that Stan could manage to move were his face muscles, and right now he was caught between feeling frightened and angry. 

“You— what— what are you—” And then suddenly the powder was thrown full on in his face. 

He couldn’t do anything but breathe it in. He tried to block it as fast as he could, but there was no luck -- he ended up inhaling and violently coughing the glowing blue dust everywhere. It got in his eyes, his nose, his mouth. It consumed him, leaving a tingling sensation in his bones and skin. As quickly as it happened, it stopped, and the dust seemed to disappear into the dirty cave floor without a single trace. 

Chaos just grinned again. The lunatic was always grinning, Stan thought. What a freak. 

“This will make things _very_ interesting.” Chaos snapped his fingers and Stan felt overwhelming fatigue wash over him.

“See you ‘round, fish boy.” Chaos hummed melodically, and disappeared into the cold night, leaving Stan coughing and hacking on the ground, fighting to stay awake.

“Wait…” he mumbled out, reaching after the man as he walked away, leaving only his silhouette, and then nothing.

—

Waking up to the sound of thunder and heavy rain, Stan blinked open his eyes. It must have been hours since he was last conscious, since the early morning sun was already out yet blotted by the cloudy sky. He stood up, dusted off his pajamas, and wiped his face. He was still barefoot, and the ground underneath was beginning to get a little soggy with the rainwater that seeped in from outside. Moving further into the cave, he sat down and sighed, putting his head in his hands. He never liked getting wet on the best of days, and this was certainly turning out to be one of the worst he had ever experienced. 

He waited until the rain had calmed down to a drizzle once more, signaling the end of the storm. The forest outside was lush and green, leaves littering the ground in an array of colors that were pleasing to the eye, but Stan was not looking forward to walking home from... wherever he was. It looked like the woods just outside of his apartment complex, but deeper in. The chill of the morning reached into the cave, biting like little needles on his skin, and he brought his arms closer, stood up, and prepared to brave the long walk home.

Upon stepping outside, he wondered if Kyle had the same experience, or a similar one. He felt worried. He didn’t have his cellphone on him; it was still on the desk in his room, charging.

Stan could feel the soft droplets of rain and the drips from the tree leaves as they fell on his head and shoulders. Walking through the mud barefoot was doubly unfun. However, he noticed that, the more wet he got, the more apparent an ache bloomed from his jaw. He tried to push it aside at first, chalking it up to just something trivial, but it was slowly becoming more unpleasant.

By the time he reached his apartment, muddy and soaked, it felt like he had been walking for days. The ache in his teeth was unbearable, and he was hunching in on himself, shaking. Quickly, he walked up the few steps and into his room. Thankfully, it was on the bottom floor and unlocked. He stumbled into his living room and shut the door, shaking as the burning in his jaw heightened.

Stan grunted as he felt his gum line tear and teeth push through, blood running down his chin and onto the floor. The taste of copper was strong on his tongue, and he wanted to puke just looking at the blood splatters and the feeling of—well. He was starting to panic, and covered his mouth in an attempt to slow the blood as he struggled to walk. He took a deep breath once he made it to the bathroom before slowly taking off his hand. He knew what was there before he even saw — he could feel it.

Opening his mouth, his teeth were… different. The canines and incisors were lengthened and sharp, along with the rest of his teeth. More like… well, it reminded him almost of some kind of animal’s teeth. Peering into the mirror closer, he inspected his damaged gum line, wincing at the slow seep of blood down into the sink. 

His hands were stained with dirt and blood, and he decided to begin cleaning up at least somewhat. Filling the sink and shutting the faucet off, he dipped his hands in and began cleaning up his hands and arms, trying to ignore the way his fingertips were beginning to ache along with his lower back and legs.

Suddenly, the pain became unbearable.

He collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain and wanting nothing more than to cry out. He could barely think as he huddled in on himself, trying anything to make it stop. He heard something plop onto the floor and the quiet rip of fabric. Shakily looking over his shoulder, he saw the beginnings of what looked like a thick tail.

_What’s happening to me?_

—

Kyle unlocked the door and walked into the store that he and Stan shared at around 8:00 am. He flicked on the lights and hung his coat, before making his way to his desk on the other side of the room. He stifled a yawn as he went to pull down the chain for his desk lamp. 

For some reason Kyle had a lot of trouble sleeping the night before; his mind jumping from place to place, and a little niggling feeling in his gut telling him something wasn’t quite right.

He flipped through the notes that he had taken on their cases over the years until he had gotten to what they had on Chaos, which wasn’t too impressive. They had been researching him for months on end and still so little information came their way. Kyle was thinking about bringing it up to Stan that maybe they should just put this on the backburner until something worthwhile came up, but on the other hand, he was unwilling to admit defeat on the case. 

Kyle looked up from his notes and took off his reading glasses, glancing across the room to Stan’s empty seat and wondering when exactly he would show up. He hadn’t answered his calls, so Kyle assumed he had just slept in. Still, the nagging feeling of something being wrong was making his stomach do sickening twists. He tried to occupy himself by dusting off some of the books and magic items that were for sale. 

Reluctantly, after the first 2 hours of the day at work with Stan not showing up, he decided to close the shop for a little while to go check on him, now fully concerned. Stan never really just stayed back without explaining why, even during his stronger depressive episodes. 

Pulling up into an open spot at Stan’s apartment, he noticed a figure in what looked like pajamas walking slowly and hunched over out of the corner of his eye. When he turned his attention to it, he recognized its owner at once.

It was Stan. He was absolutely filthy and his shoes were missing, he was also absolutely drenched; wet mud clinging to his pants and shirt as he walked slowly through the morning drizzle.

“Stan?” Kyle said warily, leaning out of the open window of his car. But his friend didn’t even seem to hear him. He looked like he was in a lot of pain as he slowly rounded the corner into his apartment.

Kyle got out of the car to walk over to Stan’s apartment. He paused when he was standing in front of the door, noticing that the door itself seemed singed with fire, the knob badly burned and the lock almost completely melted. The wood around the knob was blackened as well, and he carefully opened it, rushing inside. 

The first thing that registered was the blood. Whatever happened to Stan, he was hurt and bleeding. 

The next thing he noticed was the dull thud of something hitting the floor.

He followed the small splatters of the blood to the bathroom. He paused only for a moment when he heard muffled thrashing on the other side.

“Stan! Stan, are you okay?” No response. Kyle couldn’t wait anymore, “I’m coming in.”

Luckily his friend hadn’t thought to lock the door when he entered the bathroom, and Kyle opened it as far as he could without accidentally hitting his best friend, because he had no idea where he was in the room. 

“Kyle…?” Stan said weakly from his position on the floor, and Kyle immediately flicked his eyes down to the spot where the voice came from. When he saw Stan, he could only stand there shocked.

Stan was huddled into a fetal position. Kyle opened the door further and saw a whale-like tail making its way out of his friend, quickly overtaking his lower regions and thickening, thrashing on the ground slightly, probably in reaction to Stan’s pain. 

“H-help.” was all Stan could squeeze out of himself as he huddled in on himself further, digging claw marks into his skin without realizing it.

Kyle was instantly at his friend’s side, trying to comfort him in any way that he could, which wasn’t much. He thought of a healing spell and tried to apply that to help dull the pain, but it didn’t seem to be working much. Whatever was happening was not being slowed down, either, which was even worse.

“It’ll be okay dude, it’s okay,” he said, biting back his own panic, stroking Stan’s hair as he was crunched deep in on himself, because even he had no idea what the fuck was happening, or why this was happening. Stan was human — there’s no reason why he would suddenly start changing into whatever he was becoming. 

“Here, we have to move you,” Kyle told him.

Stan nodded as best he could through the pain, trying to move but obviously having a lot of trouble doing so as the tail continued to lengthen and his legs gave out.

Thinking on his feet, Kyle carefully crouched down in front of his best friend and allowed Stan to put his arms on Kyle’s shoulders. He stood them both up as best as he could, even if his friend was getting heavier by the second and quickly becoming unable to walk on his own.

They made it out to the living room next to the couch, but by the time they got there Stan’s legs were almost gone and useless, turning a stark black like his tail. Kyle pulled off the rest of his pants in an effort to make him more comfortable.

They sat there in silence, Kyle quietly stroking Stan’s hair as he changed.

—

A few minutes after it seemed to stop, Stan tried to sit up as best as he could, but found himself unable to do it very well without some help.

Kyle tried the best he could to move Stan carefully, conscious of the dorsal fin on the back of Stan's new tail, which resembled an orca's. He went to grab a damp towel and gave it to his friend to wipe off the remaining blood around his mouth. 

"How did this happen?" Kyle wondered.

Stan looked up at him and shrugged, looking regretful. He looked down again.

"Chaos broke into my room last night. We… we fought and he knocked me out. He threw something on me." Stan's breath hitched.

"He said that instead of killing me, he would 'make things interesting.'" Stan went on. 

Chaos was definitely known for cursing people, but why would he plan something like this? Why Stan, and how had he known that they were tracking him? 

There were so many questions. But right now, Stan needed help. 

He hoped that dragging Stan out into the living room and not leaving him in water would either slow things down or maybe reverse what happened. Getting his wet shirt off might also help too.

"Stan, we should get you dried off. I think that, well, that maybe water exacerbated the situation," Kyle trailed off.

Kyle got up and Stan propped himself against the couch, beginning to take his shirt off.

Kyle flushed and tried to look away, but was caught by the patches of black snaking its way up his friend's back. 

"Could you get me a dry shirt and some pants or something?" Stan said as he held his wet shirt in his claws.

Kyle nodded dumbly, like he wasn't just staring at his friend's half naked body. The part that was still human, anyway. 

When he got back with a towel and shirt, Stan was leaning heavily on his couch, listlessly examining his new claws and flexing them. Kyle moved to sit beside him, setting Stan's new clothes in front of him neatly on the cushion. Stan hugged the dark red towel around himself with a somber expression on his face. 

A little over 30 minutes had passed, the two spending most of it in silence with their combined worry drenching the atmosphere in the room. Eventually Kyle got up and started pacing, in effort to get the nervous energy out. He raised a shaky hand to his hair.

Most of the water seemed to be gone now. Stan was wearing a fresh, dry shirt and jacket and fidgeting with his pants, and Kyle worried for a brief moment on his behalf-- if Kyle’s hypothesis of drying off would even work. Stan glanced up from the pants to look at Kyle, who was staring without even realizing it.

Another five passed, and Kyle was starting to get even more worried, until Stan showed him his hands. His human hands. 

Turning back was a lot less painful, it looked like, and Kyle turned around to give his friend some privacy as he got into some underwear and pants.

“You can look now,” Stan’s voice sounded from behind him.

Turning around, Kyle saw that he was sitting on the couch, relief playing across his features as he leaned back into the cushion. Kyle made his way over to sit next to him but paused when he saw Stan staring at his hands again.

“My teeth are still kind of weird,” he said, and pulled up his lip to show Kyle his new set of them.

Kyle stared at his friend's new teeth, unsure what to say as the panic inside him came to a head. Images flashed through his mind of several different scenarios if this got out— none of them good.

“I— How are we going to keep this a secret?” Kyle began rambling, running a nervous hand through his curly hair. “Water is everywhere! It’s also in everything. How long will this even last? Is it permane—”

“Kyle! Don’t overthink it. I’m sure it will just run its course on its own, a-and if it doesn’t, well…” Stan trailed off.

Kyle nodded in agreement, but didn’t look happy about it. They did live in a state that was close to the ocean, after all. At least this hadn’t happened back where they used to live in South Park. That’s one way it could have been way worse. It would have been impossible to leave this a secret around family and old friends.

“Whatever happens, I’m staying here,” Kyle declared.

“Dude, you don’t need to do that—”

“What if you turn back? How will you get access to your phone, are you going to crawl all the way to your room to pick it up off the desk? I’m staying.”

Stan visibly winced at what he said, but assented quietly.

So he stayed. It was an irrational worry, Kyle knew, but he couldn’t help it. 

A few hours later, he fixed a lunch of two veggie burgers and some sweet potato fries to accommodate Stan’s vegetarian diet. The atmosphere was awkward, Kyle not knowing what to say and Stan probably holding something back. He was emotionally constipated at the worst times, just shutting down when things got too overwhelming. Kyle pursed his lips.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, which made Stan look up from his barely finished meal and nod quietly. 

Stan pushed his plate away from him and leaned over the table, crossing his arms and resting his head on them. 

“Dude?” Kyle questioned. 

"I should have known better, or fought back better. This wouldn't have happened if I'd been more alert…" Stan said quietly. 

"You had no way of knowing that," Kyle responded, sympathetic.

Stan brought his blue eyes up to his friend, filled with regret and some other unreadable emotion. Kyle absently scratched at his wrist, then propped his arm up, resting his head in his hand.

"...you really didn't." he said again, softer. 

Stan stared up at him, eyes swimming, and looked down once more. “I guess so.” Stan turned his head to the side a little. Sighing and pushing back to get up, he said, “I’ll be in my room.” He stood and slowly walked off to his bedroom, closing the door and leaving Kyle alone at the table to finish his food.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sextant is a nautical tool used for navigation, but the device Kenny uses is a special one that can detect spells.

A week later, Stan sat on the edge of his bed, a large glass of water on the nightstand next to him. Kyle had pretty much moved into his apartment full time, doting on him in a way that only his mother could rival. He had taken to sponge baths, but longed for the refreshing feel of hot water on his skin in the shower. His teeth still hadn’t changed back, so he just assumed that they were stuck like that until he could find some way to get back to normal. He ran his tongue along one of his fangs and winced at the feeling them.

Slowly, he dipped his right hand into the glass of water and watched his claws form. It wasn’t nearly as painful as the first time, but no less disturbing to watch. Taking his hand out, Stan wiped it on the dry towel he had with him and waited for it to turn back to normal.

In the week since his first transformation, he had secretly been experimenting with what different levels of water could activate, if anything, and what aspects of his new form stayed with him when he turned back. However, he never dared to trigger a full transformation again. One morning, while he got dressed, Stan was shocked to find that there were two splotchy tendrils of black making their way up his lower back. They seemed to be stationary for now, but he prayed that they would not go up any farther.

A knock got his attention and he swiftly wrapped up his hand so that Kyle wouldn’t see what he had been doing, carefully positioning it behind him. His friend opened the door and came inside.

“You can’t stay in your apartment forever, dude,” Kyle said carefully.

Stan looked at him and sighed, shaking his head. “I know that, I just. It’s just… I don’t want to risk anything.” 

Kyle stared back with nothing but sympathy in his brown eyes. “We still have work to do, Stan. We can’t let this get in the way of that. Here.” He held out a manila folder for Stan to take.

Stan took it and flipped it open, revealing his notes and various photographs of Chaos and his possible allies. Kyle was right, they did need to get back to work as soon as possible — he couldn’t afford to be moping around in the apartment, even if it was inviting.

A quick glance outside of his bedroom window revealed that it was another gloomy afternoon; dark clouds threatening rain, and it made his skin crawl to think of what would happen if he got too wet in public. Turning back, he saw that Kyle had a large black umbrella in his hand, and was offering it while glancing off to the side.

“Let’s go to the shop,” Kyle muttered, flustered.

—

When Stan was nearing the building, he was surprised to see that another childhood friend of his was there, under the little awning at the entrance. He was leaning up against the wall as he smoked a cigarette, and Stan opened the door and stepped inside, too focused on getting out of the rain. He tapped his folded umbrella against the ground to get the rainwater out and carefully wrapped the lace around it, trying as much as possible to not get his hands too wet. 

“Kenny?” Stan finally said, looking up at his friend.

“What are you doing here?” Kyle questioned, confused, while Stan struggled with the umbrella. Kenny just shrugged and smiled in return, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth and stamping out the cigarette with a flick toward the dish of sand that was kept out as an ashtray. 

“Hey you two!” Kenny crushed Kyle in a hug, who was visibly trying not to recoil from the strong scent of smoke. Stan was next.

Kenny still lived in Colorado at a place in Denver, but neither Kyle nor Stan could figure out what he did for a living, despite seemingly doing alright for himself. Stan watched as Kenny took off his dark brown coat and hung it up in the closet along with his and Kyle’s own, obviously not caring enough about whether or not he should ask to do this. Shutting the closet door, they made their way up the stairs to the shop and Kyle unlocked the door swiftly, letting them all in.

“What brings you all the way to Baltimore?” Stan asked, wondering how long he had been in the city. He exchanged a brief look with Kyle, asking what the hell Kenny was doing here so suddenly.

Kenny smirked and said, “just a surprise visit, I heard you two were chasing something big, too, and wanted to see if I could help.” 

Stan tried not to narrow his eyes in suspicion at this; it was a little too convenient. It wasn’t at all that he didn’t trust Kenny, but, at the same time—

His thoughts stopped abruptly as he caught sight of his hands. 

Thinking quickly, he pulled on the gloves he forgot at his desk yesterday as Kenny and Kyle chatted idly, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. Oh god, he hoped that he didn’t fully change. Not here, not now, when there was nowhere to hide other than the bathroom, and that was very narrow and uncomfortable even when he was human. He tried not to let his panic show through.

It didn’t work. “What’s up? You seem kind of nervous,” Kenny said, walking forward, hazel eyes becoming filled with concern. He stopped when he saw that Stan seemed to get more flustered as he did this.

“It’s nothing. It was just an accide— I mean—” he scrambled to come up with a lie, shoving his gloved hands behind his back and walking backward into the wall as Kyle looked on. Stan was unsure what to do in the moment, caught between deceiving their childhood friend and asking for help. He looked helplessly in Kyle’s direction from his position against the wall for a brief moment as Kenny decided to resume his walk more slowly and cautiously.

“Stan, it’s okay. Just let me see,” Kenny said, all the gentle convincement of an older sibling in his voice, and for a moment Stan considered breaking past him and running for the door. But that wasn’t a very good idea and he wouldn’t get very far, being the shortest one there. Besides, the drizzle outside had picked up to a light shower. 

Kenny stopped just short of him, and Stan looked up into his eyes, feeling almost uncomfortably small. Slowly, he made the decision to take his gloved hands out from behind his back, and offer them up for Kenny to inspect. He didn’t have the heart to take them out himself, not wanting to see his latest fuckup. 

His friend took his hand and slowly pulled the glove off, Stan’s claws catching on the fabric briefly as it ran by them. When they were fully off, Kenny quietly looked at them, and back at Stan, then back at his hand once more. Slowly, he put them down at Stan’s side.

“What happened?” Kenny asked.

Kyle walked forward as Stan looked down, unable to form words from being too wrapped up in embarrassment and regret. 

“He had a run in with the target,” Kyle offered simply, eyes flitting over to where Stan was. “It got a little ugly.”

“I see…” Kenny said, thoughtfully. 

Quietly, just above a whisper, Stan said “There’s more to it.” He looked up at them both, Kenny eyeing him with a thoughtful look, Kyle with worry. He hated that he made Kyle worry.

“Water is the trigger, when there’s enough of it, I become--well. Something else.” Stan was hyper aware of the feeling of his fangs against his lips, wondering if Kenny even noticed _those_ yet. He hoped not, he tried to hide them by talking as little as possible. 

“Can you show me?” Kenny asked.

Stan bristled, snapped his head back to his direction. “No! I don’t want to be like that ever again if I have to,” he said, voice raising, and feeling a shiver run down his spine at the thought.

Kenny seemed to freeze when he raised his voice and Stan quickly covered his mouth, _no nonono,_ the last thing he wanted anyone to see were his new teeth. He didn’t want to think about them, much less actually use them for their intended purpose, but he knew that it would have to come to it eventually. Even during the meal last night he was disturbed to find himself craving meat.

“You got teeth too? Wow, Stan, that’s some work they did. I’m assuming this is a curse, right?” Kenny looked at him for confirmation and Stan only nodded once, hand still over his mouth. Turning to Kyle, Kenny said, “maybe I can help you.”

 _That_ got both of Stan and Kyle’s attention, and they both looked at him at once. How could Kenny help them? He _knew_ about curses? Stan thought that he only dabbled in magic every once in a while, not really here nor there, just a mild interest. Certainly not enough to know about form changing curses like this one and how they work. 

Kyle broke their silence. “How exactly can you help? You know about these kinds of curses?” 

Kenny nodded, stepped closer to Stan and picked up his hand, which was back to normal. “I may not know the whole picture, and I probably won’t be able to know more until I see the full effects, but, yeah, I can help you guys. I’ve sort of... Well, let’s just say that spells and curses just fascinate me.” He smiled warmly. 

“We just need to get set up either here or somewhere else. Somewhere quiet would be ideal.”

Stan nodded. He could find that cave again, but wandering through the woods behind his apartment didn’t seem all too appealing. The best place to learn about a spell is to visit where it was casted, to look for any magical residue. He and Kyle had made the trek out there just a few days ago, but found nothing. Still...

He frowned when he remembered again that the dust that was thrown on him had melted away. There was still a possibility of there being residue, however faint it was at this point. Maybe he and Kyle just weren’t able to pick it up. They didn’t have the proper equipment either. 

“I know where to go,” Stan said. “But right now, we need to run our shop. You can stick around and help, if you want. It’s a little past opening time.” 

Kenny declined and asked for the keys to either of their apartments, saying he would just crash there until they were ready to come home. As soon as the keys to Stan’s place were given, Stan flipped on the lights of the store and turned the open sign in the front window, ready for the day to begin.

Researching Chaos had proved to be his number one priority of the day, after being away from it for so long. He found out after talking to a few contacts that Chaos was indeed still in Maryland, which was good. He was worried he and Kyle would have to cross the entire country before seeing him again to confront him and make their arrest. It also wasn’t likely that Chaos would even _undo_ what he had done to him. So his best guess was to just look for ways to reverse it on his own. If it even was reversible.

Sighing, he flipped the cover of his tablet closed, looking around listlessly at the shop and saw that Kyle was helping with the last customer of the day. Something about needing ragwort and Kyle having to go to the back in order to get some since their supply was so low. Glancing up at the clock he saw that it was 5:02 pm, a little past closing time.

While Kyle was in the back, though, the customer turned her head to him. She was young, and had a very strange birthmark or tattoo in the vague shape of a dragon. He smiled to help alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. She was walking closer now, and Stan found himself backing up in his chair toward the window, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, eyes widening. He saw the glint of a silver blade just inside of her unzipped coat and froze.

Suddenly, there was the loud thud of a glass jar on the table across from him and they both looked over. 

“Your ragwort?” Kyle chimed in, sickeningly polite, a dangerous light in his eyes. 

Narrowing her own eyes, she spoke. 

“Yes.”

Glancing back at Stan for a brief moment, she turned toward the counter and his friend rang up her purchase.

Both of them watched warily as she left.

“Are you okay? Do you know her?” Kyle asked, alarmed, hand touching Stan’s shoulder.

Stan just shook his head as he looked up from his sitting position. “I don’t. I feel like she knew _me_ , for some reason, though. But not—not human me.” He swallowed thickly, remembering the dangerous light in her eyes and the glint of the blade as she walked closer. 

“I think that was one of Chaos’ lackeys.” he said quietly, voice slightly shaking.

—

They walked home closer together, Stan out of fear of the water and Kyle out of a weird protective urge. Kyle looked down at his friend and flushed a little of how close Stan was walking, almost glued to his side as he held the large umbrella tightly over both of their heads, his other hand in his jacket’s pocket. 

Thankfully the rain was slight, but he still didn’t want to take any chances. The sky was darkening slowly; some of the rays of the sun escaping from the muted grey clouds, and the reds and oranges made it all look as if it was an oil painting. 

In relative silence they reached the very beginning of Stan’s apartment complex and walked toward their destination, hoping that Kenny had enough sense to leave the door unlocked for them. Stan knocked to announce that he was coming in, and jiggled the doorknob.

When they stepped inside, he noted that Kenny was nowhere to be found in the living room, and when Stan set down his bag he immediately went toward his bedroom.

“Oh!” Stan said, backing up out of the door frame as Kenny made his appearance, bowl of cereal in hand.

“Hey guys! I hope you don’t mind. I was just hungry, you know how it is,” Kenny said, smiling again. If there was one thing that Kyle was certain Kenny was, it was a smiler. He never seemed to stop. 

“It’s fine.” Stan waved his hand dismissively as he walked off toward the bathroom and shut the door with a click. 

Kenny turned conspiratorially to Kyle with a sly grin on his face, aiming his used spoon into his friends face. “So, you two get it on yet?” 

Kyle sputtered and smacked Kenny on the arm, which got him a laugh from the other man. 

“What the hell, Kenny!” He nearly shouted at him, his face felt like it was on fire. “This is serious!”

“Okay, okay, just wondering. Considering that both of your clothes are here,” he observed.

Kyle heard the toilet flush and the sound of the sink being turned on, and after a few seconds Stan stepped out, drying his hands on a little towel and then throwing it into the laundry basket near the door. 

“What’s going on out here?” he asked.

Kenny smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but Kyle slapped his hand over it immediately. “Nothing important! Let’s just talk.” 

And Kenny rolled his eyes, pulled Kyle’s hand away from him as the latter flushed furiously. 

“Anyway,” said Kenny, “let’s get somewhere more quiet, or to the place where this happened. I didn’t pick up anything here, so I assume it’s somewhere else?” 

Stan nodded. “In a cave just inside of those woods.” He pointed toward the living room window.

Kyle walked up to the window and drew back the blinds a little, the sunset peeking through the clouds just enough to cast its rays through the glass and onto the floor. He sighed, hoping he could remember the way back. 

The walk through the forest was quiet. Stan brought the umbrella again and held it over his head as best he could through the thicket, as the sun set even farther down and they had to use flashlights to guide themselves. Kyle focused on a fire spell that kept him dry from the droplets falling off the tree branches each time they disturbed one. Kenny seemed to just take the rainfall full on, not caring at all.

“You’re sure it’s down this way? It feels like we’ve been walking for hours.” 

“Ken, it’s only been like, 15 minutes. It’s at least 30 out,” Stan chided.

Kyle just rolled his eyes at them, glad it was dark enough for it. 

Soon enough the cave came into view, Kenny immediately speeding up to get into it. He was almost completely soaked through. Kyle gathered some damp kindling and dried it off, hoping to use it for the fire he wanted to build inside of it. As soon as they got inside, Stan tapped the umbrella against the ground but left it unfolded, leaning it against the damp wall of the cave.

Even though Kyle had been here once already, he was still in awe of the natural beauty of the structure: the walls eroded out smoothly from time, the little flits of light from the bioluminescent algae that floated on the surface of the tiny pond in the far corner, and the little patches of red arcyria that grew on the surface of the rotting wood of an old tree leaning just out of the entrance. Patches of little amanita mushrooms littered the ground here and there.

Walking toward the middle, he dropped the now-dry kindling on the floor, along with some larger pieces of wood that he had also dried off using his magic, and lit a strong flame with a flick of his wrist. Feeling the spell travel through his blood and out through his hand never got any less exciting for him. 

The trio sat down in front of the fire, Kenny focusing on drying off and Stan looking thoughtful as he stared at the flickering light. After a while, Kenny stood up and started walking around. He eventually stopped in one area, crouching to get a closer look at the dirt there and took a strange looking device out. It looked almost like a tiny sextant. 

“What’s up?” Kyle asked, curious. Stan turned his head toward his friend.

“Was it here?”

Stan walked up to the spot next to the crouched Kenny and nodded. 

“That’s where it happened.”

Scooping up some of the cave dirt into a small cylinder, Kenny stood back up and brushed off his jeans. He made his way toward fire and sat down once more, taking out the sextant-like device and looking into the dirt sample he collected. Then, without warning he threw it into the burning flames. 

Kyle was too stunned to react in time, but what happened next was eerie enough to push away any anger. 

The fire had taken on a startling blue appearance, deep purple at the very edges of the flames, lighting the entire cave in an eerie glow. The algae in the pond in the far corner shivered and seemed to glow brighter with the fire. 

Kyle was bombarded with the feeling of needing to breathe, as if he was caught in a torrent of water. He doubled over onto his side and looked around to see that Kenny was reacting similarly, but Stan just stared directly at the fire, unhindered, as if entranced. 

"Kyle, put it out!" Kenny choked out desperately, as Stan reached a hand forward and placed it directly in the flame.

Kyle wasn't able to do much from his angle on the floor and he was certainly having a hard time putting this out -- it wasn't listening like other fires did. 

The room exploded in an array of color and light, and the feeling of being choked alive by the need for air dissipated. Kyle saw the landscape around him shift into an ocean as water rushed into the cave, miles and miles deep in every direction. The torrent of the waves crashing above his head as a school of colorful fish quickly swam past. 

Then, he was suddenly in a kelp forest, trying to move through the vines, but only managing to get himself lodged in the tangle of kelp, pinned there, suspended in deep water. Bubbles escaped his mouth as he struggled against the thickening plants that were pulling him down, down, down. 

—

Kenny was the first to break the spell. He shook Kyle, who snapped up and looked around frantically. Stan was staring confusedly at the dying light of the fire, and then his hand, which was not burned even in the slightest. 

"That. We all experienced that, right?" Kenny asked, shaken up to all hell. 

"I…I think so," Stan said, tearing his eyes away from his hand to look at Kyle and then at Kenny. 

Kenny leaned back on his knees. Oh, god. How was he even going to explain this to him? 

"We should get going. We can talk about it when we get home." 

The duo passed a look between each other and both of them stood up. Kyle put out the fire with a quick splash of water he gathered in his hands from the pond. 

Strolling out of the entrance, Kenny found that it was almost completely black outside. His friends followed behind him at a quick pace, flashlights out and lighting the way back.

Halfway there, Kenny lagged behind with Kyle as Stan walked ahead quietly, watching his step. 

"Dude, we need to talk, once we get back to his apartment. Who exactly are you guys after this time?" Kenny asked, more out of concern than anything. That was a powerful curse they got a glimpse into. There's only one… but they couldn't be going after _him._

Pausing for a moment, Kyle looked down. When he resumed walking, he whispered, "Chaos." 

If it were possible, Kenny's neck might have snapped from how fast he turned his head. He looked worriedly up at Stan and then at Kyle. 

"Kyle, no. We--you. Hell. _We_ shouldn't be doing this. It's way too dangerous. And Stan has already been affected, who knows if he will come after you next!" Kenny's tone was frantic, he was trying desperately to not alert Stan and possibly freak him out more than he already was.

When they reached the apartment, Kenny quickly went over what he was going to say in his head, and how he was going to say it. Walking over to the couch, he sat down as the other two had pulled up chairs.

"Stan, I don't know how to start this." Kenny laughed nervously, "You're something called a sea nix, it's almost like a mermaid, but more dangerous." 

Stan just looked at him confusedly, opened his mouth to ask a question, but Kyle shushed him with a glance his way.

"Second… it has the potential to be permanent."

At this, Stan paled. "In--in what way?"

Kenny shook his head sadly. "Just plan on living in the water long term if we don't get this fixed." 

Kyle’s own face paled at the mention of this, but he was obviously trying hard to hide it. 

Stan looked down at his hands. "What did you two see?" 

They both gave their accounts of what happened to them, while he looked on solemnly.

"That's not what I saw." 

He recounted a loud ticking sound that ticked slower and slower as he felt his body change around him, more features poking through with each tick. The sound of rushing water and being met with the large deep green of the ocean, being overtaken by a monumental wave as it crashed into him, rendering him useless until he could move his tail to swim away. 

Then, there was a brief moment where everything snapped back, where he was human again, but the waves of the crashing ocean seemed to be getting louder with each step that he took on the long stretch of land.

When he was done, Kenny and Kyle stared equally in stunned silence. It was hard not to notice how tense Kyle had become during the explanation, too. 

"There has to be a way to reverse this," Stan muttered. 

"I'm sure there's a way, dude. For now, let's just try and get some sleep." Kenny yawned and laid down on the couch. 

"You two don't mind if I crash here, do you? You can share a bed." 

As anticipated they both went varying shades of red, but assented. They probably wouldn't think too much of it anyway. 


	3. Chapter 3

_The slow and caustic swirl of black smoke weaved its way between his legs. Something was wrong._

_He thought he cast the spell right, he thought he could bring her back. It may have been a stupid idea, but he missed her so much. Even if he could see her for just a moment again--_

_But, no. He saw the smoke swirl upward and take shape in the form of a deep black python._

_"Kenneth McCormick…" it hissed out, words dripping with the poison of malice as his name came off the creature’s tongue._

_It lunged for him._

_______

He woke up tangled in his shirt and drenched with sweat. Sitting up quickly and feeling his chest to slow his heartbeat, he turned and saw the clock on his phone burned 5:30 am. 

No one else was awake right now. Kenny sighed and thought about his dream. An uncomfortable memory played in the back of his mind that the dream reminded him of and he shivered as he got up. 

It was the 7th of April, three weeks since they discovered more about Stan’s curse. Kenny wondered just how fast it was going to progress until their time ran out. Usually, things like these took months to have their full effect, and he assumed that’s what was going to happen with his friend.

His mind wandered back to his dream and he pulled out his wallet, fingers searching for something inside. He pulled out a small picture of him and his siblings, his eyes focusing on Karen. He couldn’t believe that it had been 5 years already, the memory of her passing still fresh in his mind as he looked at the still image of her smiling face. 

Not long after she passed, he had moved away to Denver in an effort to get away from the quiet McCormick house, since he had no real reason to stay there anymore. Kevin decided to stay behind to look after their mom, who took it the hardest. Memories of that day flitted in and out of his mind like little ghosts.

Suddenly he was snapped out of his thoughts, putting the wallet away and sitting up straighter. He saw Stan trudging through the living room toward the kitchen fridge in what only could be described as a zombie fashion. He grabbed some milk and a bowl of shredded wheat, and sat down at the table.

Kenny came to join him a moment later, just as Stan was groggily poking his spoon into the bowl of food, probably not thinking much. 

“Did you sleep okay?” 

Stan looked up, a little startled. “Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I slept alright. Kyle still moves a lot in his sleep, did you know that?” 

Kenny saw the beginnings of a fond smile on his friend’s face. Stan wasn’t very good at hiding his love for the guy. Especially this early in the morning.

“Anyway, I think we are finally making good progress on the case, you know? Now that we have three heads in, anyway. I’m sorry, we should have told you sooner what we were doing.” Stan looked regretful for just a moment.

There was a pause as Stan slowly chewed on a bite of his breakfast.

“Hey, Kenny?” 

Kenny perked up, surprised that Stan wasn’t using his chosen nickname for his, well, nickname.

“How do you know so much about curses anyway? You… never really were interested in them before. I know the occult has fascinated you ever since you found out Kyle was able to use magic, but…” Stan trailed off, uncertain.

Kenny smiled wistfully, got up and walked toward where his coat was on the floor next to the couch. He pulled his wallet out and walked back to the table. Just as he was digging for the picture, he heard Kyle up and about. It probably was best for them both to hear his explanation at the same time anyway.

The redhead was more awake than Stan, being more of a morning person anyway. His curls were strewn about on his head, even more wild than usual. Kenny caught Stan looking at Kyle with the most obvious face ever, a half empty bowl of cereal in front of him. Kenny supposed that he would make a move when the time came, but he was damned if they were ridiculously slow about it.

That was a thought for another time though. 

Kyle joined them at the table, automatically sitting beside Stan, who promptly appeared to be very interested in his bowl of cereal. 

Kenny found himself feeling a little stage fright all of a sudden. _It’s just Stan and Kyle,_ he reminded himself. He knew he could trust them with anything, but this somehow felt like crossing a line. He had no idea how they would react.

Taking a deep breath and sighing it out, he hesitantly took the photo out of the wallet and placed it on the table in front of him. Kyle gave him a confused look and Stan looked at it with mild interest.

“There’s something I’ve been keeping from you guys,” he started, unsure where to go from here.

The duo perked up, giving him their full attention.

Kenny fidgeted with a napkin that he pulled from the little holder in the middle of the table, twisting it in his hand and eventually tearing it up into tinier bits. He looked up once more. 

“Do you remember when Karen passed?” He asked, suddenly.

Stan nodded and Kyle murmured, “How could we forget…” 

_The memory of that day rose its ugly head in his mind. The abrupt stop of the heart monitor as he stood in the doorway, unable to look at his sister’s body. The sound of his mother weeping on the bed, Kevin sitting quietly in the bedside chair, hand on his mother’s back._

_Leaving the room, Kenny stopped just outside a nook where a water fountain was and began to cry silently. His heart felt heavy with grief. He could wail later._

“I would have done anything, _anything_ to have her back,” said Kenny.

 _The funeral took place a few days later_ _. H_ _e felt so useless. He couldn’t protect his sister from this illness, he knew that, but that didn’t lessen the sting any more than it already was._

“So I did something stupid.” 

Realization dawned on his friends’ faces and Kenny had to look away, ashamed.

_The fire flickered in front of him, burning brighter with each passing second. He cut open his palm and squeezed the blood out into the awaiting brass bowl on the stand in front of him. The flame grew a deep black, smoke billowing ominously and tangling itself around him in long black tendrils._

_The smoke curled into a snake. A black python, baring its teeth._

__

_“Kenneth McCormick…” it spoke, words oily and slick with malice, mouth unmoving. “You who would tamper with life and death…”_

_It lunged forward, sharp teeth glinting in the light of the fire._

_“Die a thousand deaths until your last.”_

_The teeth connected with Kenny’s shoulder and he screamed out in pain, white hot and fierce as it burned through his veins. He crumpled to his knees._

He showed the scar of the snake bite on his right shoulder.

“You… tried to bring her back?” Kyle spat, anger forming on his face. “Of all the stupid--! You’re such an idiot!”

Stan looked more sympathetic, taking it in quietly. “‘Die a thousand deaths until your last…’ are you saying that you… are cursed to die?” 

Kenny nodded quietly, feeling sick. Kyle looked ready to strangle him.

Stan looked at him thoughtfully, “That explains your interest in curses, then.”

“I’ve tried everything, nothing works. I’ve read books until my eyes burned.” Kenny sighed, looking down.

He suddenly felt a hand press softly into one of his, which were still on the table. Looking up, he saw Stan’s hand. 

“Kenny. We can help you fix this, if we just work together on it,” his friend said, determined. 

Kyle was still visibly fuming, but softened when he saw Stan’s determination. He managed some kind of nod that he probably thought passed for less irritated than he actually was. Stan was right, but Kenny was unsure if it could even _be_ fixed. Whatever happened, Stan’s curse definitely took priority over his. He’d done this to himself, after all.

_____________

On the 25th of April, Kyle walked a pained Stan down an alleyway. It wasn’t the best decision on his behalf to take this route, but they desperately needed to get somewhere private. His friend was limping in effort to keep up with him, dragging his umbrella on the ground. Kyle wished he could carry him. 

“Just a little further, dude. Then we can stop,” Kyle encouraged a hunched over Stan, who didn’t respond.

Earlier in the day they had been eating at a restaurant, and everything was fine for the most part. Stan reluctantly ate steak at Kyle’s coaxing, who told him that _killer whales are obligate carnivores, so of course you feel so low energy, Stan._ His friend didn’t make an attempt to hide his disgust and guilt while he ate, remarking quietly that he hated how good it felt in his mouth. 

Then, the waitress walking past them tripped. She was carrying water and pop, and Stan got the brunt of the splash of liquid on him. Panic overtook them both instantly. They had to get out of there. Now. 

Kyle quickly put some money on the table for their bill and walked Stan, who was already beginning to hunch over into himself, through the front doors.

It helped a little that it was at least somewhat sunny outside that day; no rain in sight.

Stan collapsed onto the old brick ground in the alleyway and Kyle’s panic heightened. They were so close to the shop, so close. He couldn’t give up.

“Stan, we’re almost there, we’re almost there,” he repeated, convincing himself more than anything. He hauled Stan up by the shoulders with trembling hands and brought his arm around him, acting as a brace for his friend. 

When they finally reached the shop, Kyle hurriedly unlocked the door. Shoving Stan inside the empty shop, his friend collapsed once more on the floor and hugged in on himself, letting the transformation take place. Kyle sat back, feeling useless, looking away because he couldn’t stand to watch this happen again.

“I’m going to go make a call to Kenny, okay?” he said, and Stan opened one blue eye, nodding his shaking head to give his permission to Kyle.

Kyle left the room to go to the back, but not before making sure that the shop was properly locked up. Shakily, he dialed Kenny’s number.

Two rings and a click. “What’s up?”

“Kenny. You need to get here right now, bring a change of clothes for Stan, please.” Kyle breathed into the phone’s mic, voice rising with worry. “I took him to the Blue Pit and a waiter dumped water on him and now he’s changing and I don’t know what to do and Kenny--”

“Kyle, breathe. You need to calm down. You’ve done this before, right? Just relax. I’ll be over.” Kenny said, calmly.

“I-I don’t like seeing him in so much pain, dude. It hurts to even look.” Kyle said, tears forming. He scrubbed them away with the back of his palm. He couldn’t cry now. He quickly decided that he _hated_ Chaos. They needed to get a firmer grasp on him -- they were so close.

He ended the call with a quick tap on the red button on screen, and shoved the device in his pocket before heading back out. Stan was curled in on himself with his tail, sweat on his brow matting the jet black strands of hair into thick clumps on his forehead. He tiredly looked up at Kyle when he entered the room.

“I can’t wait for this to be over,” Stan said, exhaustion tinged at the edge of his voice.

Kyle completely agreed. He walked over to the bathroom and took out a fresh hand towel from the locked cupboard under the sink, lightly wetting it with some warm water. He walked back into the main room and Stan had managed to move slightly, but was still on his side curled in on himself.

Kyle knelt in front of Stan and started dabbing the damp towel on his friend’s forehead in effort to wipe away the salty sweat. After a few moments he helped his friend sit up, and gave the towel to Stan and let him do the rest. 

“Why are you doing this?” Stan questioned, sadness ringing. It looked like he wanted to say something more.

Kyle looked at his friend from his position on the floor next to him, leaning forward into his knees. He took in Stan’s appearance. Sweaty but wiping himself off, wearing a soaked but drying favorite shirt of his, an abstract piece of artwork emblazoning the front. It was from a Pearl Jam concert that they went to. He looked down at his best friend’s tail only for a moment, the swirls of white along the deep black skin, and back up into his questioning deep blue eyes. 

He didn’t know, Stan didn’t know how much he meant to him. Kyle was doing this because he…

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden knocking of the door. 

Kyle and Stan exchanged panicked looks. They couldn’t really move him now without the help of someone else. Kyle really hoped it was Kenny and not some random customer. 

He got up and looked through the peephole of the thick wooden door, relieved to see that it was just Kenny -- but something was wrong about his appearance. He was disheveled and unkempt. Kenny usually kept himself at least somewhat neat, minus his wild blond hair. It looked like he ran all the way to where they were.

Kyle unlocked and opened the door, letting Kenny rush inside. He dropped the bag of clothes and leaned up against the nearest wall, breathing what looked like a sigh of relief. 

"I was being followed here,” he panted. “I think I lost them, but they were determined." 

Kenny looked down for a moment and caught sight of Stan, who was watching him from the floor. He picked up the bag of clothes and handed it to his friend, who took them eagerly in his claws. 

As Stan selected the shirt and began putting it on, Kyle noticed that the blotchy patches of black had moved higher up on his friend’s back and he bit his lip.

“You said you were being followed?” He blurted, anxious.

“Oh uh, yeah. It was two people wearing black coats, I only saw their faces for a brief moment, but they looked like they had marks on their faces.” 

Stan froze, and Kyle’s breath hitched. 

Instantly, he remembered the woman that had appeared in the shop several weeks back, who seemed intent on hurting Stan. If Kyle hadn’t gotten back from the storage area in time, well. He didn’t like to think about what might have happened.

“What’s the matter?” Kenny asked, looking between the two.

“Those people. We think that they’re Chaos’ goons, or something. Somehow related to that asshole,” Kyle spat.

“One of them was going to attack me,” Stan added.

Kenny seemed to bristle. “There has to be something we can do, and it’s obvious that we can’t just sit around anymore doing research. We have to do something.”

Kyle agreed, but began to pace wildly. “What will we even do? I mean--there may be three of us, but I’m the only one that can actually _use magic_ , so I don’t know what good--and look at Stan!” He pointed emphatically toward his best friend, who was in the middle of pulling on a navy blue jacket. He noticed his hands were trembling again and he quickly put it away as he continued to pace.

“How are we--. How will we do anything?” Kyle asked, feeling helpless, scrubbing a hand through his messy curls.

“We have weapons,” Stan offered. “And I can find out where they are using my detection spells.”

“Yeah, but the moment water is thrown on you, you can’t do anything unless we’re near any.” 

Stan winced and looked ready to argue, but Kenny interrupted.

“Guys! Kyle -- you need to calm down. And Stan -- Kyle _is_ right.” Kenny sighed and sat down in Stan’s chair behind the desk area. “We need to think about this rationally,” he said while rubbing his temples.

After a pause, Stan was the first to say anything. “You’re right.” He sat up as straight as he could and put his hands in his pockets. He felt uncomfortable being so close to the ground. Seeing his two friends so ridiculously taller than him threw him hard, mentally.

Kyle stopped pacing and looked down, noticing Stan’s discomfort. He moved to sit down with his friend. 

“I guess you’re right. But, uh. We do need a plan in case things go to shit,” Kyle muttered.

The three of them sat in silence for a while, each thinking of what to do. Kyle’s mind was abuzz with suggestions, but almost none of them seemed plausible enough to work except for completely leaving town. Inwardly, he wondered if the goons would resort to more violent measures against them. They already tried to attack Stan and followed Kenny, so was he next? 

Stretching his legs out on the floor, he leaned back and sighed. Stan and Kenny looked at him, jealousy flashing in Stan’s eyes for a moment before he looked away again. 

“I think we should continue our research, and, if things get ugly, we could just skip town for a while,” Kyle thought aloud.

The other two acknowledged this with nods of their own and they continued to wait until Stan turned back to normal.

______

Kyle sat alone in his apartment for the first time in about a month. May was on the horizon, and the days were slowly getting longer. He had come back there to pick up some new sets of clothes, but quickly became distracted because of how dusty everything was at his place.

He stood and walked across the rickety hardwood floor to the piano he kept in the corner of his tiny living room. His mom insisted that he play it, mentioning that he had hands that were perfect for playing, and he found himself enjoying it far more than he expected. He lightly ran his fingers across the dusty keys and pressed one down, a single note ringing out into the empty space.

He couldn’t help it, he had to play. He was a little rusty at first, having not played in a while, but quickly warmed up to the keys and felt the rhythm as he played. He chose a nocturne that he had learned a long time ago from his grandmother. Something by [Tchaikovsky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwI6ZOwydWk) \-- he wasn’t sure of the name, but he had it memorized down to his bones.

At the end of the last note of the piece, he closed the fallboard and quietly hunched over the dusty lid, resting his head on crossed arms. He thought about Stan, his curse, and how it was taking just a little bit longer each time he changed for him to turn back. He thought about their time limit. He refused to lose his friend, the _person he loved,_ to some ridiculous curse.

He felt tears leave his eyes and for once, he didn’t fight it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there! sorry it took so long to post this!! I've been busy with a lot of life stuff, but I'm still chugging along on this story. :D


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